<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Home Is Where the Mess Is by rxdxctxd</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26487385">Home Is Where the Mess Is</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rxdxctxd/pseuds/rxdxctxd'>rxdxctxd</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The King of Larksturn Tomb [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hunter X Hunter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Slice of Life, Trans Male Character, no plot just daily living</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:13:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,994</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26487385</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rxdxctxd/pseuds/rxdxctxd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A snapshot of life in the Freecss home.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ging Freecs/Kaito | Kite</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The King of Larksturn Tomb [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1920238</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Home Is Where the Mess Is</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>At the time of publishing this will be the only other work in this series making it jump 20 smth years; with any luck future fics will go in the middle there.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ging?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ging looked up to see Kite standing in the door, almost too tall for it. Judging from the apron and splatters of flour on his clothes, he’d been baking again, or trying to. He was better at it than him or Gon, but in truth none of them could bake very well. They all ate each other’s mistakes though.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah?” He sat up on the bed, bookmarking his place in the archeology journal he’d been reading. “Do you need me?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Kite looked away sheepishly.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you think you could come down and help me with the dishes? I kind of made a mess.” he said, and Ging laughed.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, sure. What’s Gon doing? Is Killua over? Please tell me they didn’t try to help.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The last time Gon had tried to help with the baking they’d been cleaning flour off various surfaces in the house for a month, and as much as he appreciated having a son so willing to participate, sometimes it was better if he didn’t. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Kite laughed.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“They’re playing video games in the living room.” he assured. “They offered to help clean but I told them I was going to get you.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ging let out a sigh of relief —which made Kite laugh more— and got up to follow him downstairs to the kitchen. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How’s it going boys?” he called out as he rounded the turn at the end of the steps.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Killua is cheating!” Gon yelled. His accusation was punctuated with aggressive denial by Killua. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I am not! There’s nothing stopping me from using that move!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then why can’t I use it!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You don’t know how!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then teach me!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ging chuckled heartily as he stepped into the kitchen while they bickered. Kite wasn’t kidding, it <em>was</em> a mess. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ging turned to face him. “You used <em>every</em> bowl? What were you making?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Kite smiled sheepishly again, full aware of exactly how ridiculous he looked standing amidst the wreckage of his floury hubris.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“....Pastries?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ging narrowed he eyes, looking again at just how many dishes were in the sink.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Pastries.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, four kinds of pastries.” he clarified, and Ging cracked up.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You always were ambitious. Let’s get to work. We’ll do the dishes first and then take care of all the flour —do we have any <em>left</em>? Or is this all of it?” he asked, cocking a brow at an island of flour on the ground.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We still have a cup or two, but we should probably get more.” he admitted. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So the two of them set about cleaning the dishes and fell into a steady rhythm, standing over the sink and passing dishes between them. Kite washed, he dried, and in the middle of the workload they switched because Kite reached his threshold of how many weird textures he could stand to feel on his fingertips. Ging, always touching something weird for his work, did not have this problem.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ging watched in peace as the sun travelled the sky while he worked, casting a warm halo on Kite’s face. The light highlighted the bridge of his nose and the irises of his eyes, illuminating the golden honey brown that now shone so bright in the eyes of their son. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re so handsome.” Ging said quietly. “When the sun shines on you you seem so bright you might blind me.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Kite was always beautiful. He was when they had met, when they started dating, when they’d had Gon, and when they married. He was beautiful in his own body, and he was beautiful as an ant. But Ging was very glad that Killua’s sister had been able to put Kites mind and old body back together.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The features of this body were the ones that peeked through in Gon, and this was the body Ging knew as well as his own. This body held him through the worst pain he’d been through; this body smelled like the Kite he’d known forever. The only difference now was the webbing of scars that patterned Kites body if you looked at his skin under black light. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You find the thought to think about that when your hands are in all that disgusting mess. I don’t know how you do it.” Kite laughed. Ging shrugged. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Once you’ve had your hands in hundred year old liquified remains it doesn’t bother you anymore. Now lean down here so I can kiss you.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Kite obliges and Ging kissed him softly on the lips, eliciting a gag from Killua in the other room who had apparently been watching. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Gross.” he said, barely loud enough that Ging could hear. Ging snorted and kissed Kite again. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Soon the dishes were done and the flour was cleaned up, and it was time for dinner. No one wanted to mess up the kitchen after all of that, so Kite saved the day by volunteering to go get take-out. Gon helped Ging set the table while Killua sat and watched. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I like living here.” Gon said, kind of out of nowhere. He said it plain and flat, just a fact he felt time to share, but it brought warmth to Ging’s chest. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Their situation was still relatively new. He and Kite had only recently bought the house, Kite’s experience with death being the wake up call they had both needed to be able to put themselves first for once, above their work. They formalised their marriage like they’d planned to years ago, bought the house, and moved in together. Gon was invited to come and stay whenever he’d like, and it didn’t seem that it took him long at all before he decided that he wanted to live with them and not just visit.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I do too.” Ging agreed. He trusted Gon to know the significance. He really <em>liked</em> it here. He didn’t feel antsy like he did when he stayed in places too long. He was just comfortable. He spent each day with his husband and kid, like he’d wanted to do from the start. He was living the dream he’d had of his future when he was 20, caring for his newborn and making plans with Kite. None of their plans had worked out back then, and he’d feared they never would. He was so glad to find that he was wrong.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s really nice to get to be around you and Pops all the time!” Gon continued enthusiastically. “I never got to have a relationship with either of you, and I didn’t even <em>know</em> you. So we’re making up for lost time! It makes me happy.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You and me both, kid.” Ging said. “I’ve wanted to live with and raise you since I found out I was gonna have you. I’m so glad that things stopped getting in the way.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The “I’m glad I was able to face you” and “thank you for not hating me” were left implied, but Gon had heard Ging discuss this enough to know exactly what fear had fuelled his dad fleeing from him after years of being unallowed to so much as see him. The fear of rejection from his child had been crippling to deal with, and he wasn’t proud of how he’d handled it. He could have done so much better.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But all’s well that ends well, and that ended so very sweetly for him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m glad too, Dad!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m just glad Kite is getting food.” Killua said, his chin resting on the table. “I’m starved.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ging couldn’t argue with that. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eventually Kite returned with about a third of their favorite restaurant’s menu, enough for everyone to get variety and for Gon and Killua to eat their fill. Ging remembered when he used to eat like them, but Kite, probably due to his circumstances, had always eaten a reasonable amount if not less. It was tempting to say it was no wonder he was always so damn skinny, but Ging knew better. Kite ate more often than the rest of them and no matter how much or how often he was always as big around as a hat rack. If he hadn’t always been this way Ging would worry. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So when do we get to try those four kinds of pastries?” Ging asked with a shit-eating grin when the table had settled into quiet eating. Kite flushed. Gon visibly brightened.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah! I wanna try one!” he said, mouth full of food. Ging cracked up. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Me too. Where are they, babe? There’s four of us so we can cut one of each into fourths and share so we can try them all.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Kite was hiding behind his hands.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I was really hoping that you’d forget and I could slip them out for the animals.” he sighed, and Ging’s grin grew impossibly bigger the more embarrassed his spouse got.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“After cleaning all that up? Not a <em>chance</em>, Kite. I wanna eat what made that mess.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ging regretted his phrasing the second the words came out of his mouth as Killua choked on his food and Kite looked like he might well die on the spot. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey!” he protested. “That is not what I meant and both of you know it. Jeez!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gon, however was still right on focus.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I didn’t clean but I still want to try them! They smelled good when you were making them. Are they in the fridge? I can get them.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gon didn’t actually wait for an answer, already up out of his seat before he even finished talking. Soon, he was back with two plates of two pastries each and 4 forks.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Kite’s handiwork with the pastries...at least a B minus, Ging reckoned. They looked kind of weird, but they didn’t look like they’d taste bad this time. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Babe, these might actually be good.” he said, reaching over to procure the first bite of a blackberry...something. The texture was actually flaky the way it was supposed to be and his eyes opened wide in surprise. “Hey kid, try some of this.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gon took a bite of the same pastry and had a similar reaction, his face lighting up.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Pops you did it! It tastes like a pastry! Killua try this!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gon went to feed a bite to his friend and Ging figured he’d follow his lead, getting another bite on his fork and turning to Kite.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Come on, open up.” he said, waving the fork. “No way you tried this earlier and weren’t going to let us taste. You were going to feed it to squirrels without even testing it?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I was kind of...over the whole thing by the time they came out.” he answered, but indulged his husband and took the bite Ging offered him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, it...actually came out okay!” he said, face brightening. “Are they all like this?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Kite dove into the other three pastries while Ging watched in delight. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He loved it here.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The last time Ging had stayed put this long, he had been pregnant, hiding out on Greed Island so that those that knew him wouldn’t know he was transgender. Under normal circumstances, he and the road were as inseparable as...the sun from the sky, or as politicians and lies, perhaps. But perhaps he should have more faith in politics, because where he was, he didn’t want to leave. There were plenty of adventures waiting for him, and he’d go on them, he knew he would, but his desire for discovery now sat nestled with an equal desire to come home at the end of the day, to kiss his son goodnight, to hold Kite every night as they slept. He’d leave this home just like any other, nothing could keep him truly stationary, but he knew that here he’d return again and again. Every time he could. Every chance he got. He knew that the adventures in his future, which he once would have gone on alone, would be highlighted by Gon and Kite’s smiling faces. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And that was much the same as taking his home along with him.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hope you enjoyed; I still feel a little rough around the edges writing compared to other alters. If you’re kin with or rp kite and want to talk or write, hmu on discord I’m REDACTED#8235</p><p>Check out this fic by Faetori next! It falls just after this fic in the timeline of this series’ universe. If I could put it in a series with my fics I would since they’re connected.</p><p>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26670646</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>